You Are The One

Chapter 5

In her mind, Jon continued to prove just how unladylike she is. Only five minutes in, by the time they're just approaching the Dungeon Tower, Jon is walking by his side rather than behind him. Precaution seems to have left her, while her eyes can barely stray from him.

But thank fuck he doesn't notice. Seems more interested in peering around at their surroundings as they go. Jon thinks maybe, by the slightly faraway look on his face, that he's either homesick or taking in any changes that may have occurred in the last three centuries.

And that was almost one of the most surreal conversations she's ever had.

Telling The Conqueror himself, that he has somehow woken up three hundred years after his two-and-ninth birthday.

But he'd taken it well.

A little too well...

Though, he did still seem just as confused as she is about this turn of events.

Which is why she gives him a chance.

Everybody deserves one chance—that's what both her Uncle Benjen as well as Uncle Eddard had told her. And that is what both men had always done for her. Given her the chance to prove herself.

And Aegon handing his sword over to her before they started their trek to the Stone Drum in a gesture of goodwill really has started him off very well.

Gods, she wishes Arya was here. At least she seems to know all the Targaryen's names and who they really were. Jon knows next to nothing about her father's family.

And as she realises this, a crude blush of embarrassment settles over her entire body just as she is placing some folded leathers she found in the armoury outside his chambers. The same chambers she would sneak up to after dark before ultimately chickening out and running back to her own chambers.

Oh, how she wishes she'd just stayed in her own chambers on that damn boat.

The first person from her family she ever got to know and she turns out to be Jon's father's little sister.

Though, she does remember one infamous thing about Aegon, other than his great conquest...he had not one, but two sister-wives.

That little reminder both makes Jon feel a little less dirty and a whole lot more shitty.

Jon doubts she'll be able to relax, even if Aegon hadn't suddenly showed up. What with being abandoned by a dragon and all. Though, that doesn't mean she can't try. And since riding Dani's dragon in the day—while letting Dani ride her in the night—Jon hasn't had any time at all to just fucking take a seat and relax.

She isn't stupid enough to take off her armour, no matter how pleasing to the eye and charming Aegon really is.

She looks around for a few moments, just taking everything in again. It's all left exactly the way it was left from the morning she finally set sail with Dani.

Jon walks over to the Painted Table, the figures still in place from the last strategy plans. She runs her fingers over the edges of the western coastlines of Westeros, slowly making her way until she reaches all the way around, stopping finally at the points between King's Landing and Dragonstone.

In comparison to the bigger picture of the map, the two locations are not at all that far from each other. By horse and sea, two days, by dragon, seemingly hours.

Jon finds herself scowling over the map as she thinks to where Drogon has fucked off to in favour of leaving her here. And if she sees him again...it's not like she can tell him off.

She likes having all of her limbs...

With a soft huff, Jon pushes away from the Painted Table. Turning, her eyes immediately land back on Aegon's longsword. She tilts her head, thinks about it, rethinks it, then, finally, remembers that she's the Queen and that she can technically do anything she wants.

OK, no—it's totally intrigue that wins her over. Makes her walk right over to pick it up. Again, she's pleasantly surprised by the balance of the thing, making it feel twice as light. Even letting her hold it in one hand.

Jon grins, because while she's a good fighter, she's still a woman with half the strength of most men. So, she's never been able to hold a longsword with just one hand until today. Her grin widens as she raises the blade in her right hand and swings it smoothly around her before darting forward in a hard jab.

Jon chuckles as she swings again, not having felt this much playfulness since her younger days with her siblings—or cousins, she guesses.

Even Sansa was once as wild as Arya—before she discovered boys. Jon is chuckling again, just thinking back to those days. When Arya would show Brann up with the bow and arrow and Jon would do the same with Robb whenever they sparred with the sword.

Jon made herself learn whatever weapon she could get her hands on. And thankfully she had always seemed to pick it all up quickly enough.

But the sword?

Yes, that is her favourite.

So gallant and just so fucking elegantly brutal.

And she could never deny the pure satisfaction of the looks from men twice or thrice her size seeing her lift and swing those swords with just as much ease as they ever could.

She's never been interested in real power. Though, she has fought hard to never be powerless.

And this sword? Well, that's something she knows all about.

How his sword, the very one she now holds in her hand, was a bastard itself forged of Valyrian steel. That it was first owned by The Conqueror. That he used it to invade the Seven Kingdoms before he brought them all together. That no one has seen it since it was lost over a century ago. Disappeared after its last wielder.

Jon finally finishes with her mucking around. With a small admiring smile, she walks closer to the lonely lit sconce along the back wall to get a better look at the fine weapon.

She holds it up with one hand, using the other to brush her fingers down the blade. She flips the blade into her palm, holding up the pommel to inspect that next. A shield made of gold with the tiniest rubies embedded all the way around.

The sword itself looks so much more stunning in real life, those history books doing it no justice at all.

The hairs on the back of Jon's neck suddenly stand on end, like they always do whenever she senses she's no longer alone—something being raised as a bastard will force you to somehow condition yourself to learn. She's flipping the sword back and gripping it before swirling around with it raised in front of her before she can even think about it.

Aegon stands there. This time, dressed, and Jon decides to straight up just ignore the feeling of disappointment unfurling inside of her. Though, he still looks good with clothes on—he just looks better with them off...

He has one brow arched and a small grin tugs at his lips. His eyes trailing up and down, taking her in. Lingering on his sword before resting on her lovely face. "You have a strong stance." Finally, he speaks, voice low and soft, but also holding a playful note. Especially when he gives her a tiny flirty smirk and adds, "And grip."

Jon's chuckle puffs out of her in her surprise. "Oh, how lucky for me—another Targaryen charmer." She gives a light-hearted roll of her eyes as she finally lowers his sword to her side.

Aegon flashes her another grin. He pushes himself off of where he leans against the wall just inside the doors. Jon briefly wonders just how the hell he creeped up on her...before remembering who he really is again.

"Where did you learn how to handle a sword?"

He sounds genuinely interested, but Jon doesn't hesitate to give him a look.

He chuckles. Hold up his hands. Promises to her, "That one was an accident. Make no mistake, Lady Jon, I would never be so crude to someone so fair." Though, he does give her a cheeky hint of a smirk that makes her stomach do flips even before he adds, "Well, not unless she asked me first."

Jon forces herself not to laugh at the suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. Instead, she nods and finally gives him an answer. "My f... My uncle taught me the basics, then, left me to fend for myself." A small smile slips over her lips at his concerned look. She tells him, "He did the same with his own children. He treated me as if I were his own."

Aegon hums with a nod, seemingly satisfied with her explanation, his shoulders relaxing as he moves closes to her. His steps are wary, like he's trying not to scare her.

And usually, that would make Jon want to puff her chest out just to prove she's as good as any other man protecting themselves. But oddly, with Aegon, there is none of that. Only a warm feeling under her skin that makes her want to move closer to him, too.

She doesn't.

Jon controls her ridiculous impulses. Controls her foolish wonders and thoughts about the man stood before her. She keeps the sword in hand, stays right on her spot and keeps her eyes on his. Her expression calm where his is more intrigued the closer he gets. She sees his eyes dart down to her twitching fingers around that hilt, followed by a twitch of his mouth as his eyes rise back to hers.

Aegon stands in front of her then. Edging slowly forward until the toes of his boots touch her own. Until he's literally looming over then.

He leans his face down, slow and sure until their noses are almost brushing. His eyes dart down to her cheeks, to her throat just barely peeking out of the top of her leather under her armour, and then, back up to her eyes again.

Not one flinch. Not one tick. Not one rapid spike of her pulse when he leaned in. Not one fucking beautiful raven black hair out of place as she just stands there and stares calmly back at him, like she's waiting for him to get his stupid test over with.

He arches a brow again, sorely impressed, if not, highly aroused. He has to fight back a gleeful laugh right from his gut as he finally relents. Instead, Aegon smirks as he leans back to give her her space again.

And now, she's arching a brow right back at him and he has to laugh, at least, a little. "You are magnificent, little beastie." He nods in approval. Folds his arms and grins with pride as he adds, "I can see why your dragon chose you."

Jon takes a moment to unpack those words in her mind. She still has no real reason to trust this man, so, she doesn't really know how much to tell him.

So, she starts out small with, "He isn't my dragon."

Aegon pauses, grin fading with confusion. And then, instantly lighting his face back up again as he asks, "Shit, are you telling me you're one of those rare polyriders?"

Jon blinks. "What?"

Aegon's grin falters, a small pout etching over his brow and making Jon want to slap it off of him for making her really want to lick it off of him—Gods, what is wrong with her?

"Well, then, I will guess that he left you here, because he feels like you don't want him."

Again, Jon blinks, because: "What??"

Though, her tone is stern rather than baffled this time. Her eyes slowly widen as she glances over her shoulder and out to the balcony and across the oceans beyond.

Aegon chuckles, taking the rare opportunity to take her in while she's not looking at him. With that sweet little wary scowl she thinks she's hiding so well. "He'll come back." He tells her, "He's just punishing you. You'd be surprised how petty dragons can be."

A flash of Dani using said dragon to burn down half of King's Landing flits through Jon's mind before she blows it back out.

Jon bites her bottom lip, taking the sword loosely in hand with her as she shuffles back to perch her backside on the end of the Painted Table. She sighs, eyes briefly closing before locking back onto Aegon's. She then, tells him, "I killed his last rider...who was also his first and only rider... His...His mother, you could say."

"I see." Aegon sighs deeply, nods and says, "Well, he hasn't burned you alive or eaten you for it. I'd say that whatever reason you did it for, he agrees with you, otherwise, he wouldn't let you bond with him."

Jon blows out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. And when she looks back up at Aegon's worried face, she knows the sting of her eyes isn't just a sting.

But Gods, it just felt so good to say that. To finally let the words out of her before they ate her from the inside out.

He takes a step forward, but stops when she holds up her free-of-sword hand. Shaking her head while quickly smearing the tears back, Jon strains around a smile and says, "I'm all right. Really."

She can tell he wants to ask, but is wholly grateful when he doesn't. He simply smiles reassuringly and nods while taking a small step back again.

Jon clears her throat. Finally offering some goodwill of her own.

Aegon looks surprised when she grips his blade to hold the hilt out to him.

It takes him another moment to recognise the pain lingering in her dark and beautifully mysterious eyes. He doesn't think even he knows pain like he thinks he sees in those eyes right now.

Someone so beautiful should not be so unhappy looking, even more so when they have the fire in their veins that he most definitely does recognise in hers.

You don't have to necessarily be a Targaryen to ride a dragon, he knows that much.

But then, why does he somehow feel her heart aching like it's his damned own?

Maybe whatever happened to bring him three hundred years into the future really is to do with her, but she just doesn't remember any more than he does.

Or maybe someone did it do the both of them.

Whatever it is...

His attention is swiftly drawn back to the lovely lady stood before him. Aegon smiles and bows his head in thanks before gently taking his sword back from her.

"It's a fine blade." Jon nods her approval, steps back to perch herself against the table again, her hands gripping the edges either side of her.

"Ah, that, is it." Aegon nods his own approval while lifting it up to admire it—for the millionth time by now, he's sure.

Jon smiles as he reminds her very much of Arya in this moment. She can still remember the excited and grateful look on her sister/cousin's face when Jon gifted Needle to her. It isn't much unlike the appreciative look now on Aegon's face.

Though, when she lifts her eyes to his, he's now looking more appreciatively at her instead.

Jon fights back a shiver and ignores the pimples erupting over her arms and legs (thankfully under her armour and leathers.) However, she holds his gaze, not even daring herself to look away.

Yes, she has self worth issues, but that's not what this is about...mostly.

Really though, why would she even want to look away?

Could she even if she wanted to?

That last question is the most dangerous one, she knows.

She ignores that, too. Swiping her thoughts to the side, and instead, asking, "Will you tell me about the dragons?"

Whatever that look was in his eyes vanishes the moment she utters the last word of her question. Now, both his eyebrows arching and a pleasant sort of endearment slowly spreading over his handsome face.

"Please?" Jon quickly and politely adds as she fights back a flush, again.

This man is going to induce an early fucking menopause in her if she isn't careful.

But she has literally no one reliable left to really teach her about the dragons—courtesy of her own actions, but still, Aegon is perfect for it.

Among other things...

She bets he's perfect at a lot of things...

Things that could make her—

This is why you'll never feel like a real Lady. Forget about being a sodding Queen! Focus!!

Aegon grins mischievously and for a brief second, Jon's heart almost bottoms out of her arse as paranoia tries to set it's claws into her mind—the very same way she ridiculously thinks he can read her mind for that split second of panic.

Though, it's forgotten in the next second as he nods and she smiles a small but hopeful smile and he grins back even brighter and says, "Of course, little beastie. I am your open book."